Love is at Stake
by petiteinsolite
Summary: A little drabble about Mike and Michael's relationship, all starting with a simple question. Mike(Vampir)/Michael(Tall/Curly Goth)


Love is at Stake

"_Have a look around, my pretty, we are surrounded by death in all forms – just the two if us are still alive–"  
-_Simona Panova, _Nightmarish Sacrifice_

Mike never made it a habit to hang around in graveyards, but Michael had dragged him into one. It was, in all honesty, his own fault, he was the one who asked Michael to talk, and he was the one who asked him if they could talk alone.

It was all the because of an incident which happened a couple of days prior to this meeting, it mad Mike really think over a lot of things. It made him think about himself, made him think about his feelings, especially the ones about Michael.

"_Mike,"_

_He turned to see the tall Goth looming over him, his usual stoic impression was replaced with one that was full of emotion, concern, worry, and something Mike couldn't put his finger on._

"_Please, stop," the Goth paused "stop being a vampire."_

_Mike was confused for a moment, the Goth had come out of nowhere to make such a statement, and looked as if wasn't even going to bother saying why. He was about to respond, when the Goth spoke up again._

"_Become a Goth"_

_Then he left, he didn't wait for a response, he didn't justify anything he said, he just left. He left Mike to stand there, confused, awkward, and unable to move himself._

He needed to talk to Michael about this, he wanted to get some things off of his chest, he needed to get his feelings out in the open. He was worried about what Michael would think of the things he wanted to say, he couldn't quite get the wording right in his head. But he knew if he was going to continue interactions with the Goth he needed to say these things. And as he sat next to him on an old bench, he knew that if he was ever going to get a time to say these things it had to be now.

"Michael."

He felt the taller boy's eyes on him, he now had his full attention, and with a deep breath, he removed the plastic fangs from his mouth. The cheap plastic looking old and worn out, the fangs themselves had lost all sharpness, having dulled with age and the colour no longer was a crisp white, but a pale yellow.

"I don't need these anymore."

Mike threw them away, not caring that they most likely landed on someone's grave. He looked up at the eyes that had not once left him, and smiled softly. You could hardly tell there was a smile there, it didn't even resemble a smirk, but it was the only smile Mike had ever made that actually meant something. Actually truly had feelings behind it, not just some cheap emotion that meant something, but feelings that came from the heart.

"Mike, are you sure?"

He nodded, he couldn't trust himself to speak, not that he would have had the chance to, he felt a pair of lips on his. Soft, tentative lips. It was just a flutter of a kiss, like a whispered goodbye it only lasted a second, and then it was gone.

Mike placed a hand on Michael's cheek, and pulled him back in, their lips meet again, except this time it didn't last for only a second, they kissed feverishly, with passion so hot Mike could feel himself melting from within. He noted that Michael's lips were chapped, that the inside of his mouth tasted like a combination of cigarettes and coffee. Michael noted that he tasted like tomato juice, his lips were perfectly soft, and unlike his had no imperfections.

Mike leaned into his new found love, feeling his heart pound in time with his, and he felt Michael's arms find their way around his waist. He was pulled close into this embrace, and even though they stopped kissing, even though the cold night wind whipped around them. The felt warmth and comfort within each other.

"I love you."

"Conformist… I love you as well."

A/N: Ahh that was a lot shorter typed up than it is written down, this was a one shot that I was inspired to write after the team up the Goths and Mike had in Dawn of the Posers, which has to be my favourite episode to date. Edgar Allen Poe acting like a douchebag made me laugh. Hell I love him so much. I remember reading somewhere that love is the most conformist thing ever, but then Poe himself had found love is someone, so I guess it is alright for Michael too as well. I hope you enjoyed this little drabble thing.

FUN FACT, drabble is actually means to become wet and dirty by movement into or through dirty water. Of course in literary terms it means something different, but we all know that.

Okay, bye all.


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